The Lion of the North and the Warrior of the East
by MisterJB
Summary: Can a broken hearted Claymore love an Awakened Being? And can an Awakened Being feel any kind of love at all? Maybe together they can discover it. Miria x Rigardo New Arc: Tensions in the West
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks goes to Gangsta Spanksta for helping me with this chapter's edit.**

_**The Lion of the North and the Warrior of the East.**_

_**Part 1**_

They had no chance of winning, and she knew it from the beginning. What was the Organization thinking, sending her, the current number eight, along with twenty-two, twenty-seven, and thirty-four to hunt something like that, something so powerful that it was utter suicide to pursue? That Awakened Being was simply untouchable.

Yes, he was simply untouchable. He moved faster than her phantoms. His claws were deadlier than even her claymore in her skilled hands. And he had broken through their formation every time with frightening ease. No, not only was he strong, not only was he fast, but the son of a bitch had to be intelligent to boot.

Number twenty-seven slashed at him pointlessly, a true exercise in futility, as fingernails were stretched, flesh pierced, and blood spilled. She moved no more.

_One._

"Bastard!" cried twenty-two, her luxurious, long hair flapping beautifully as she leaped into the air, her sword aiming dead for his head. Sadly, the lion was immune to that beauty, unimpressed, as he accompanied her in the air, while she could only look on helplessly, before claw drank blood. A legless body now lay on the ground, blood spilling out from her mouth, as her eyes stared off into nothingness.

_Two._

The Phantom's eyes were resolute yet fearful. Her gaze travelled from her surviving comrade to the monstrous humanoid lion who stood before them. His claws were soaked in the blood of the other two silver eyed women.

A lion; that could only mean one thing: their foe was none other than the feared lieutenant of the Silver King, Isley, someone whose name had been feared since the first war between the Organization and Awakened Being. He was the former number two, the Silver Eyed Lion King, Rigardo. And this was bad.

Number eight and number thirty-four stood proudly, or at least attempted to do so, considering that number thirty-four had peed herself, against the former number two. It all just seemed like a joke, a very bad one.

Was it all just a mistake? Did the Organization not know that this is who their enemy was to be? Or was it all an intricate plot to murder her? She couldn't be too sure, since, after all, that Rubel fellow didn't seem trustworthy to her.

However, whatever the case, she didn't have time to consider the possibilities. She had to focus, focus on the problem at hand, and that was the claws. Already, she had been cut by them, yet no blood was shed.

"I see." Spoke the Lion for the first time, his voice surprisingly human. "Fitting movement for a commander."

She swung her claymore at him; he blocked, the metallic sound filling the air, as claw struck steel. She didn't gain her name, The Phantom, by chance, but then again, neither did he. He parried a strike aimed to take off his head and felt a sudden pain from his leg. Apparently, number 34 foolishly had decided to enter the fray and had been arrogant enough to wound him. Bad Move.

"No..." cried out Miria, as the purity of the white snow was tainted by red.

_Three._

The unlucky Claymore never truly comprehended what move had wounded her. She just felt the harsh, stringing pain and saw the Lion retracting his blood soaked claws. And then there was only darkness.

The Lion slowly turned to the fallen Phantom.

"And then, there was only one."

**

Night fell in the North, and the inhabitants of the town of Sonja slowly exited their homes. Their destination was "The Pirate", one of the few bars on the frozen plains. There, on the sign of the door, was engraved a feminine figure, a good indication of just what kind of bar this was, one where one could not only buy food and drink but also entertainment and company for the long cold night.

"_Everythi__ng has its price, it seems, even human honour,__"_ thought Rigardo as he entered the bar.

It was noisy like any other bar. The men who filled this place were all naturally ill-mannered. The North was the harshest place to live on the Continent, and these were men whose lives were anything but easy. People here had to constantly toil from day in to day out with little joy in their lives, constantly suffering through the northern cold and the merciless wind, while having to be on a lookout from the hidden yoma presence within their own. No matter how long he had lived, it would always astonish him how these frail beings, these humans, could endure so much and yet manage to go on. It was only these late hours at the bar, the only time, when those men could enjoy themselves, and they did their best to make each night as memorable as they could before the hell of day besieged them.

"_Even so, they__ could be a little more restrained.__" _

He ignored all the stares his unusual outfit was providing him with, while purposefully avoiding looking towards a group of men, ten or so, betting on the dogfights, something which would only cause him hunger. His silver eyes travelled along the length of the large room until he found them. Hunkered down at a table was a young man along with an even younger lady.

The young man was none other than his Monarch, and his only reason for being at this bar; the young lady was the only woman that he, the Lion King, could never lay hands on, his master's concubine. His monarch had long silver hair flowing down his back and wore a elegant blue cloak that, among these poorly dressed labourers, really made him stand out like royalty. The concubine was a brunette with short hair who also wore a cloak, a pink one. Currently, she was clasping the hand of her liege, seemingly only having eyes for him. These were his masters and probably the two most powerful beings in the world.

"What took you so long?" asked Isley, as his right hand rested on Priscilla's while his left raised a bottle of wine to his lips. As his master did so, Rigardo signalled a barmaid to bring him something to drink, before his master continued. "We've been waiting, Rigardo."

Grabbing a chair, he allowed himself a moment to rest. His silver eyes closed for the first time in four days. "I was hunted by a group of warriors. Their leader was quite intelligent. I tried to loose them, but in the end, I had to fight."

If Priscilla had heard him, then she gave no sign of it. "The Organization needs a new single digit…" started Isley, his tone indicative of a question, as a barmaid appeared, giving Rigardo a bottle of beer. It was bad even for his unrefined tastes; the barmaid herself would most certainly be a much tastier treat.

"I couldn't kill them," Rigardo said, trying to control his awakened instincts.

Isley unintentionally raised his eyebrows "The Lion King couldn't finish off a prey? The world is certainly changing."

"Please, do not address me by that name," he requested, as he saw a smile appear on his king's lips. "That was a long time ago, and you still haven't forgotten."

Silence had established itself amongst them, and Isley used it to finish off his own drink. The wine only served as a flavouring for his mouth, and the aftertaste it left was bittersweet as it disappeared with such ease. This was not the first time that Isley had lamented about his inability to get drunk, something that awakening had robbed him of. It didn't matter though, because before the night was out, he and Priscilla would drink from the splendour of another kind of red, a much more sweeter and potent one.

"What is your opinion on love, Isley?" Rigardo asked suddenly.

The King was taken by surprise; he caressed Priscilla's hair before answering.

"A futility at best and an impossibility at worst. Something I've never truly experienced, nor do I desire to."

"Why do you want to know? One of the Claymores that hunted you happened to catch your eye?"

"Sort of…" he said, drinking the beer again.

"Just take her to your bed. It's just another one."

"No, this time is different..."

Isley sighed; he looked at his brother in arms like an adult would look at an ingenuous child. "Have you forgotten what I told you, Rigardo? If they are awakened beings, then they are our servants. If they are yoma, then they are our slaves," Isley said, before his voice turned to a whisper, "If they are humans, then they are our food, and if they are Claymores, then they are enemies."

Rigardo shook his head, looking down "I know that!"" –

"Also, never do anything for woman that she wouldn't do for you."

The Lion's eyes narrowed, as he looked angrily at Isley. "And that comes from the man that will challenge the Empress of the South for the sake of another woman!" Rigardo signalled towards the cuddly Priscilla. No sooner did he finish his words than he felt the King's gaze stabbing at him. Each side's Yoki was instinctively raised, as some people at the bar felt a sudden sickness overcome them. Rigardo now feared that maybe he had gone too far this time, but it didn't take long for Isley's expression to change to a calmer one, as he stood up with Priscilla by his side.

"Whatever, you can take care of yourself. But believe me, there is no such thing as love on this Continent," he said, placing a hand on Rigardo's shoulder. "Remember, you can sing about it, write poetry about it, but in the end, it all comes down to one thing: you penetrating her. And also, whatever I do with Priscilla and for her is none of your concern," he finished, before slapping his lieutenant friendlily across the face before leaving, completely oblivious to the luxurious look that Priscilla was receiving.

Rigardo didn't watch them leave; he was deeply lost in thought. He also never considered love as something that should be expressed in poetry nor fantasized about, yet Isley's raw logic didn't please him a bit, since certainly there was more to love, real love, than simple genitalia action. However, Isley could have a point. Was love possible on this Continent? Could love flourish on a land where yoma disguised themselves as the fathers and mothers of those they preyed upon, the very children who if unlucky to survive would have their flesh corrupted by that of Yoma? And could he, an archdemon, one who delighted himself with the taste of human flesh, feel any sort of love at all? He didn't have the answers to these questions, so he simply raised his bottle to his lips, once more, before making a signal to the seemingly joyful girls who wandered around the bar, ready to satisfy the needs of their clients.


	2. part 2

The Lion of the North and the Warrior of the East

Part 2

"And then, there was one."

To Phantom Miria, these words were the pronouncing of her death.

Her legs wanted to tremble but she forced them still. Her eyes wanted to weep but she kept them dry. Her whole body was trying to refuse the predicament she was in. Miria's most primordial feelings urged for her to run, to escape, to put distance between her and that monster but she suppressed them and stood still, looking into the infernal silver globs of the leonine demon.

If she was to perish, then it would be fighting like a true warrior.

_Damn you Rubel! I swear I'm going to haunt you from the Afterlife, if there is such a thing._

Miria had been sent to the North to lead a team of Claymores in an Awakened Being hunt.

_Damn…_

It was a simple hunt, they said.

_You… _

A female Awakened Being whose number shouldn't be higher than 17.

_To…_

They couldn't know that they would have to fight a male Awakened Being

_Hell…_

And they couldn't possibly know that the Awakened Being would be one of nightmares, the Silver Eyed Lion King Rigardo.

_Rubel!_

Miria's legs propelled her forward, the tip of her sword aiming for Rigardo's head. The Lion calmly raised his claws to block the strike.

"Fool! Attacking head-on won't work."

However, he heard the air being cut behind him and dodged the attack that would have sliced his head. "Using the Mirage to sneak up behind me is impressive." He stopped Miria's attack with his left claw and the Claymore saw the right one coming in the direction of her head. She raised the hilt of her weapon horizontally to block it and slashed diagonally aiming for his legs. The Lion stepped back "Unfortunately, that technique can't be mastered by a mere warrior."

He created distance and shot his fingernails with a speed that made them invisible to human eyes. The Phantom couldn't see them but she felt that danger was coming so she swung her claymore blindly. By luck, chance, skill or fate, Rigardo's appendices were chopped, felling harmlessly in the snow.

He couldn't avoid a shocked expression from appearing on his snout and Miria seized the moment of confusion to attack. She did it with a strike from above but the Lion swatted the claymore aside. A slash in the diagonal and he stepped back.

Elbowing her on the face, Rigardo swung his claws into her neck and Miria was split in two. His eyes widened as the Mirage disappeared and he had to jump to avoid a claymore that otherwise would have cut his legs. Miria accompanied him, the two warriors met in mid air and she let her claymore taste his claws, spark spilled from the contact.

A Mirage was used; Rigardo shot his fingernails, stopping Miria, metal clanged and fresh blood poured from her right shoulder.

They both landed and the Awakened Being whipped his stretched fingernails. Miria couldn't avoid them and was slashed across the face. Blood tainted her grey uniform and the Phantom stabbed, Rigardo disappeared and the organic whips slashed at her yet again.

However, it was only a Mirage. Miria was using the mirage frequently, too frequently one could say.

Her speed had always been praised by her comrades and she was regarded as the fastest Claymore of all and even so…the Lion's speed was unnatural.

A speed that a half- human, half-yoma could never hope to achieve. Not without surrendering to the Yoma half.

Miria's Mirages were considered perfects even without that and, at that moment, she let them roam free. Mirages swirled around Rigardo but every time one tried to attack him, he would simply slash it into nothingness. The Phantom had to be in constant movement to avoid being cut down by the Lion's claws.

A block, a strike, the Lion deflected her claymore and was able to penetrate trough her defence. His claw stabbed and the Claymore felt his unholy fingernails ripping her stomach, breaking her skin and severely damaging her spine. Miria wheezed, a warm liquid poured from her lips and her body trembled, sustained only by the grip Rigardo had on her.

This time, it was not a Mirage.

"I guess I got the real one."

Rigardo's hand exited her and Miria fell on the ground. Unable to stand, she could only watch as the Lion raised his red painted claw again, this time for a killing blow. Surprisingly, Miria felt no fear. There were so many worse things that he could do to her, so the perspective of dying almost didn't bother her.

"Won't you beg for mercy?" Rigardo grunted "Won't you plead me to spare your life?"

A weak smile appeared on Miria's bloody lips "If I have to choose between my life and my honour…then I'm not so enamoured of this world."

Miria saw surprise on his eyes for the first and last time before her mind slipped into the darkness of unconsciousness.

* *

Miria felt safe, the pain that had burned through her stomach moments ago was simply another bad memory. Just one more…

Didn't she have enough of those already?

She tried to open her silver eyes but it was a futile effort. She was weak, too weak. Why was she so weak?

_Oh, that's right. Rigardo._

What had happened to him? Had the Organization sent reinforcements? Was she as safe as she felt?

Maybe she could be resting on her room, maybe she would open her eyes and see the smiling face of Hilda…_I killed her…_

Or maybe she would wake up and find out that everything had been nothing more than a bad dream, that there was no Organization and no Yoma, that she was still living on her grandma's house and that her older brother still had his guts inside him…

_Vain…hopes…_

Miria knew the truth now. Two strong and yet gentle hands were holding her, carrying her to an uncertain fate and it was then that Miria knew that she was dead.

For, what man would ever hold her like that?

What man would ever touch her with such kindness, holding her close to his chest?

What man would care for a silver eyed witch?

She didn't know and she didn't want to. Miria hoped that that travel would last forever. She felt so safe, so…at home…

_If this is Afterlife… then it's certainly better that the live I had to endure._

The chest where her head rested felt warm and masculine. The hands touched her like if she was a fragile flower that could be broken and they were soft, cautious, hairy…

…hairy?

Miria felt an outburst of panic.

_It can't be!_

The trip suddenly reached its end and the Phantom was laid against a tree. Leaving the warm embrace of his arms, the air around Miria turned cold again but if she minded it, she gave no signs of it.

With the little strength that she had left, Miria opened her eyes and she saw him. He was really there. Her heart skipped a beat.

A gigantic Lion was leaning over her, examining something on her belly. What it was Miria couldn't say, probably her wound or maybe her scar?

At that distance, she noticed that the Lion's eyes remained silver. Something unusual for an Awakened Being but it didn't surprise her. After all, the tales of the Silver Eyed Lion King, the Awakened who alongside the Silver King Isley had slaughtered an entire generation of female warriors were well known for anyone who had ties with the Organization. However, those mythical tales didn't correspond to the truth.

His fur wasn't black as the darkness of the night nor did he stink of dry blood. He wasn't as bloodthirsty as she had heard and his claws weren't venomous. He was brown like wood, he smelled like pines and he was watching over her with an almost concerned expression on his leonine face

_Is this really…the former number 2?_

Rigardo walked away from her, he shrieked in size and in musculature, his brown fur turned into white skin, his claws disappeared giving way to fingers and his mane changed to short, black hair. Miria couldn't avoid noticing that his body, forged in the fires of many wars, was extremely attractive.

His silver eyes pierced her without pain "Your comrades are still alive. Rest here until your body regenerates and after you can go to them if you want."

Rigardo swallowed dry and turned his back to her but Miria rose her hand "Wait, please wait." she pleaded "Are you Rigardo?"

He didn't turn to her for he feared he wouldn't be able to leave if he did so "The one and only."

"Why didn't you kill me?"

_I don't know. _That was that truth but he lied with all the teeth of his mouth "I don't care for weaklings."

Miria watched him as Rigardo disappeared into the shadows of the frozen trees. She couldn't believe what was happening. She didn't dare to, fearing that it would turn out to be a lie. She wouldn't die.

She was going to live.

_He…spared me…_


	3. part 3

The Lion of the North and the Warrior of the East

Part 3

He caressed her golden hair, enjoying the sight of her heavenly face. The white blankets that covered her slender body didn't do justice to her figure, he thought.

With his finger, he drew invisible lines on her perfect breasts, wishing for more of the wonders that she could present him with.

She opened her eyes revealing two pools of silver, a rare smile appeared on his lips. Everything seemed right with the world when she was on his arms but…

…her silver eyes showed piety and sadness, two emotions he wished she would never have to feel.

The world exploded in red.

His hands…no…his claws were soaked with her blood. Her body ripped apart. She was dead.

And the thirst…always that accursed thirst on his throat.

Rigardo's eyes snapped open, his agitated body removing the blankets that covered him. He panted, his Yoki was raised by pure warrior instincts, the same instincts that told him to analyse his surroundings in a search for threats.

Luckily, there was none. He was lying on an old bed, soaked by his own sweat and other kinds of fluids. The sun was projecting its weak rays on the windows, forcing the townspeople of Sonja to get up from their own resting places and to endure another day of hard work in the icy plains of that God-forsaken land called Alphonse.

So, he had spent the night on that deteriorated inn above the bar. How pitiful for the one who was considered second only to the three Abyssal Ones and The Creature Priscilla herself.

Stretching his still slumbered muscles, Rigardo struggled with the memories of his nightly visions.

_First I spare a Claymore and now, she invades my dreams? What the hell is happening?_

"Sir, are you alright?"

Rigardo looked to the person he had shared a bed with that night. A young woman who should be in the house of twenties, she had long, brown hair and her seductive features were mostly due to the tight dress that her profession required. Her eyes stared at him with false concern but he barely noticed it, he barely noticed anything about her at all.

Even tough he had possessed her that night, he couldn't tell if she screamed in pleasure or simply moaned. He didn't know if she enjoyed it or if she simply felt the boredom of another job. During that night, he only saw silver eyes and blond hair.

And Mirages everywhere.

After all, compared to _her, _that simple prostitute was little more than a way to quick satisfaction.

Rigardo smiled weakly.

_I'm hanging around Isley too much. I'm even starting to think like him._

"You don't need to know. Just grab your payment and leave!" he answered harshly, gesturing towards the door "And tell the owner of this slum that I will be down soon."

The woman buffed out of indignation but she did as she was told to. The Lion King let his head fall on the pillow, thinking about the day he had ahead. Putting some military discipline on the heads of Awakened Idiots was not an easy job. A sudden desire for human flesh took over him and Rigardo wished that he hadn't told the woman to leave.

_GodDamn it! I need to eat someone! _

* *

Miria's return to the Organization was an inglorious one.

She wasn't a religious person. In fact, mostly Claymores were atheists, having seen the worst that that world had to offer. It was really difficult to still believe in a divine power that protected its believers and punished the wicked after seeing an innocent baby being eaten or a priest's guts splattered while the Abyssal Ones murdered with impunity. If there was a higher power, then it was either oblivious or wicked itself.

Despite this, Miria was sure that if there was a Hell, then Sutafu would a living painting of it. It was a rare thing a Claymore that failed an Awakened Being hunt and survived to tell the story, so she wasn't expecting to a party to welcome her but nothing could prepare her for what she would experience as soon as her feet stepped on Organization's soil.

Insults and false accusations.

She was accused of being a failed creation, of staining the rank of number 8. Her own comrades looked down on her, they didn't understand how could she fail and survive. Miria didn't understand it either and that only made the insults that were thrown against her more painful than the many wounds that Rigardo had inflicted.

Normally, she would have challenged them all to a duel by the audacity but at that moment, she had her mind filled with other thoughts. Most of them involved a lion with silver eyes.

Miria found herself standing proudly in front of the Organization's leader, Rimuto. How she had gotten there, she wasn't really sure.

The elderly wore his usual aristocratic dark robe; the disgusting veins on his head pulsed alive as he heard Miria's report, a more than evident sign that he wasn't happy with the outcome of the hunt.

"… and when I woke up, he was gone," finished the Phantom. She stared at the ground in an attempt to hide the anger for Rimuto that burned in her eyes. She couldn't forgive him, she couldn't forgive any of those men in dark robes who formed the Organization' council.

The Organization's chief joined his hands in reflection. "So, you try to say that the female Awakened Being was in reality the Silver Eyed Lion King?"

"Yes."

"And you say that he, one of the most volatile warriors that this Organization ever created, didn't kill you immediately?"

"Yes."

"That's… most improbable."

_Arrogant old fart, proud of his own smell._

Miria knew very well that her story would sound incredible at the best and an impossibility at the worst. She mentally praised herself for having the good sense to omit the fact that Rigardo had carried her, fearing that the whole truth would make her pass for a liar. "But it's true."

"Oh, but we have no doubt about that, number 8." said a most hated and insinuating voice "We are just trying to understand what would make Rigardo appear at a moment like this."

Miria's eyes searched the room frenetically until she found him. Hiding in the shadows like always, there was that two-faced bastard called Rubel. His dark clothes would make invisible in the weakly illuminated chamber if it wasn't for his extremely pale skin. _Like a ghost._

"After all, it's not usual for an Awakened Being of such power to simply appear in the open and leave witnesses alive to tell the story."

Miria considered himself to be a patient woman but Rubel's arrogant smirk always managed to push her to the edge. He and all of those men that hided behind innocent girls, their little experiments. Girls who didn't choose to have demonic flesh implanted in their bodies, girls who were treated like walls of flesh themselves.

She lived for the day she would make them pay for their crimes.

"This is not a matter to be discussed in the presence of a mere warrior." spoke Rimuto, his eyes glaring at Rubel.

_Mere Warrior! This mere warrior is one of the 47 that fights everyday to impede an Abyssal Freak of coming to this fortress to feed on yours still-living bodies. I'm certain all of us would like just a little concern coming from people who say we are like daughters to them._

"Now, number 8, taking in consideration that the former number 6 Hilda recently Awakened…" Miria felt a dagger stabbing her heart "…and that you were the one who killed her…" She wondered if she was bleeding internally "…we have decided that you will take her number."

Her eyes widened with the shock. Surely they were jesting. They couldn't expect _her, _to take Hilda's place. She looked to Rubel, unconsciously looking for some kind of support, expecting him to deny it but the bastard still had that same arrogant smirk.

"But…I can't…"

It was not asked if you can or not." interrupted Rimuto "It's a great honour and you should be proud."

On this he had a point. Miria hated to admit it but a darker part of her conscience felt extremely proud and glad with that achievement. It wasn't normal for a number 17 to rise in the Organization's ranks until the coveted position of single digit.

"I…thank you for your trust…" Miria never knew that her voice could sound so poisonous. _And I wish you a painful death._

But it appeared that the Organization's leader wasn't done talking "Also, we have a request for a simple Yoma hunt in the North. You will be the one to do it. Ask Ermita for more indications on your way out."

Miria felt like protesting. Couldn't they see that she was tired and that she needed to rest?

Maybe if they were punctured in the stomach sometimes, they wouldn't have that superior attitude.

Yet, she knew that rebellious behaviour wouldn't do her any good so she simply bowed. Miria clenched her fists as she turned her back to those Yoma-tainted men and left the chamber

_One day... one day…_

Rubel's enlarged smile passed unnoticed by everyone.

* *

The sunset projected a beautiful game of colours into the iced mountains of Alphonse and even the silver monarch who ruled those lands was stunned by it.

The Dweller of the Deep Isley stood on a cliff, his azurite, feathered cloak flapped due to the strong wind, revealing a brown shirt that covered his chest but let his arms exposed. Hanging from his belt was a longsword. Nor that he needed it. That was one of the advantages that his Awakened state proportioned him, his own body was his most powerful weapon but even so, Isley was a warrior and as such, he would always keep that memento of his previous life.

_As a Claymore I was feared by humans. Now, as an Abyssal One, I'm feared by everyone in the world._

_That's what I would call an improvement._

He smiled, memories of past battles returned to him. He battled for the Organization and against it until he finally had what he desired. A land to call its own.

Even if it was one covered in an everlasting ice.

The Scourge of the North sniffed the air, recognising a familiar scent.

The air carried a scent of blood and with it, a scent of violent death.

The Silver King looked down, his eyes wandered through the trees of a nearby forest until he found what he searched. A woman, more beautiful that the sunset itself, who stood alone against 9 ogres of grey skin called Yoma.

They had tried to surround and overpower her with their superior numbers but it was nothing more than a pitiful attempt. Three of them were already laying dead on the ground and the remaining Yoma would surely follow them to the hereafter soon.

_I have to admit that she is doing very well._

The Claymore blocked sharp claws before severing the arm that supported them and cleaving in half its owner. The others charged as one and she leaped into the air. Isley noticed how her hair flapped beautifully when she did that.

A winged Yoma thought that she would be exposed in that position but she proved how wrong he was when she twisted her body, cutting his wings. The now wingless Yoma crashed on his comrades and the Claymore used their disorientation to kill more three.

She slashed upwards but this time the fiend was fast enough to step back and stretch his fingers in one, swift movement. The Yoma roared in victory when the Claymore's eyes were stabbed but his celebration was suddenly interrupted by the blade that logged into his skull.

Phantom Miria dashed between the attacks of her opponents and they only understood that they were fighting someone who was infinitively superior when it was already too late.

Not even a single one would leave that forest alive.

_Well, this sure brings me back._

Isley's expression showed amazement. He was the one who sent those Yoma and they weren't normal ones. They were the elite of the elites, a single one of them was strong enough to completely destroy a Claymore in the house of forty's and yet…she had cut them all almost effortlessly.

_Yes, I can see why Rigardo is so interested in this one._

He heard the sound of snow being crushed by heavy boots behind him; an animalistic Yoki forced itself into the place announcing the arrival of Isley's most trusted servant and maybe the only person in the world that the Silver King would ever consider as a friend, the Lion of the North Rigardo.

Isley promised to himself that he would never send Rigardo in an undercover operation. The guy was completely worthless when it came to hiding Yoki and even the greenest of the Organization's trainees would notice him in a mountain habited by Awakened Beings. The Abyssal One was sure of this because it actually happened some years ago (they had quite a banquet that day).

"You took your time. What happened? Another trainee found out your _hidden_ Yoki?" spoke Isley without looking to Rigardo.

"You will never let me forget that, will you?"

"Never! Anyway, is she one?"

Rigardo looked to where Isley pointed and it was then that he saw her. Butterflies flew on his stomach or maybe it was simply an indigestion. He wasn't sure.

Even with her slender body tainted by purple blood and her blond hair in a complete mess, to him she looked like beauty itself incorporated in the form a woman. Seconds passed like hours but he didn't seem to notice it. Frankly, Priscilla could be eating his legs that he wouldn't notice it, his mind wasn't on his body at that moment.

He almost hated Isley for interrupting his contemplation.

"So…"

"Yes, she is the one from yesterday." To his surprise, the answer provoked a rare reaction on the Abyssal One. Isley seemed intrigued. The last time Rigardo had seen that look on his King's face was when a female purple monster tried to turn the North into her private banquet. At that time, he couldn't know that the purple monster would become his… what was Priscilla anyways? His queen?

Was there even such a thing as Awakened Royalty?

The answer, he concludes, is a negative one.

Awakened Royalty and authority could only come through prowess on the field of battle. Those who died were forgotten but those who survived and triumphed could reach a position of command amongst his fellow Awakened Beings, just like Rigardo did.

"That confirms my suspicions." Isley turned to the Lion King. "The Organization is trying to get rid of this Claymore."

Rigardo's face didn't express any emotion but the air around them seemed to grow heavier with the same animalistic Yoki "Why do you say that?"

"I thought it was strange that the Organization would send a warrior who shouldn't even be a single-digit to hunt you so I sent a request for a large group of Yoma and, to my surprise, she was sent alone. So either the Organization is getting much more stupid than I remember them to be or they are trying to kill this one."

The ground under them trembled or maybe it was only Rigardo shaking "Why would they do that?"

Isley didn't answer immediately; he looked to the distance, his senses focusing in one single point. He closed hi eyes and smiled.

Rigardo felt it too, an Abyssal- no- it was too large to be called Abyssal. It was a Godly Yoki that resounded in the distance, apparently lost and confuse, desperate for guidance. Something so powerful and yet- so childish, it could only be her.

"Priscilla is done eating." said Isley, passing by his lieutenant "Try to discover why the Org wants this Claymore dead."

"Don't worry! I'm intending to find out everything about her." Rigardo said before walking forward, falling from the cliff in what would seem a suicidal manoeuvre.

As the wind howled on his hears and slapped his face, he found himself feeling nervous, almost as nervous as in the day he first entered in a battlefield.

Yes, conquering that Claymore would be another kind of war. A much different one but he was decided to emerge victorious from it.


End file.
